


Wearing the Shiny Off

by DexxxtroDNA, LeggyStarscream



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Car Chases, Consensual Kink, Driving, EM Fields, Exhibitionism, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Horny Teenagers, Humor, Light Bondage, M/M, Set Before Deadlock, Sex with a Car, Sleepovers, Sparring, Street Racing, Switching, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DexxxtroDNA/pseuds/DexxxtroDNA, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggyStarscream/pseuds/LeggyStarscream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing stupider than giving a seventeen year old boy a sports car is if he IS a sports car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wearing the Shiny Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zuzeca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzeca/gifts), [MlleMusketeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlleMusketeer/gifts).



"The only thing stupider than giving a seventeen year old boy a sports car is if he IS a sports car..." grumbled June, as she leaned on the railing of the upper deck with Agent Fowler, watching the teenage chaos below. Smokescreen had been pestering Bumblebee, who had been attempting to play a classic four-person racing game with Raf, Miko and Jack for the better part of an hour. Finally, Bee lost too many times and frustratedly got up to confront his grinning tormentor, poking the former Elite Guard cadet straight in a seam in the ventral torso plating.

"And now we've got two of them," observed Fowler with a long-suffering sigh.

"Three, if an eighteen year old boy and a sapient motorcycle count together." June was proud that her son was generally very responsible for his age, but he was still young and did sometimes get into trouble. Luckily, Arcee usually had a steady head on her... frame? Regardless, June welcomed her influence on Jack.

"When did we end up supervising this circus?" Fowler's tone changed to affectionately faux-grumpy.

Much of the team was out on patrols currently, leaving Ratchet and the two adult humans to watch over what had turned into a Saturday night slumber party - with all the restlessness and noise that you'd expect from a bunch of teenaged kids.

"Hey Bee, wanna race for _real_?" taunted the stealth specialist.

Bumblebee whistled lowly.

"Aw c'mon, don't be like that. We'll just have Ratchet put us down somewhere that doesn't know what traffic is,"

A barrage of midtone beeps, a few high clicks, and more low whistles escaped Bumblebee's makeshift vocalizer. Raf looked at his friend with mild disappointment - the yellow bot had probably used a few choice words he’d picked up on Earth.

“Alright, alright! How about a friendly sparring match then?”

That earned a happy trill. They moved away from the couch, as far away from Ratchet as possible while still remaining on the main floor.

“Grappling and strikes only okay with you?”

Positive happy beeps, then a challenging warble.

“Bring it!”

The two young bots settled into battle stances, Smokescreen cockily open, Bumblebee’s weight mostly on his back leg. They stared at each other for a moment, Bumblebee waiting for his opponent to come to him, while Smokescreen bounced on his toes, daring the Camaro to strike first. Smokescreen’s initial feints weren’t met with resistance, but his last one caught a block from Bumblebee, who followed with a side kick which was dodged.

“Bumblebee looks to me like he’s using some kung-fu action here, but Smokescreen's an all-American boxer,” Fowler commented.

The two bots matched each other blow for block, kick for dodge, keeping up a fast pace reminiscent of mixed martial arts competitions with none of the theatrical flair of the professional wrestling Miko preferred. Eventually, they began to tire and fell back, circling each other, searching for openings. Smokescreen threw a straight right punch at his sparring partner’s torso, but the lighter bot leaned sideways at the last second, catching Smokescreen’s arm, then hooked his back leg to sweep a surprised bot onto the floor.

The human teenagers were glued to the television screen, fingers tapping over controller buttons, Raf desperately trying to stay out of range of Miko's shells, Jack hanging behind trying to pick up a good power up. They took no notice of what would sound to any other human like a long, drawn out bad action movie car crash happening barely fifty feet away.

But Bumblebee hadn’t let go of the other bot’s arm, and Smokescreen smirked as he yanked down. He rolled to the right, kicking Bee’s legs out from under him and now the fight was on the ground. They rolled around, each scrabbling for purchase on the other, Smokescreen twisting out of an armbar, Bumblebee retaliating with a leg lock.

“Alright alright!” Smokescreen tapped out of the uncomfortable position, rolling away and Bee offered him a hand up. They stood to face each other again, starting another round. Their stances were more focused this time, Smokescreen going for a tackle but Bee artfully scooted out of the way. He circled back, feeling out what the other bot was up to before closing with a precise roundhouse kick to the torso plating.

“Oof!” The strike forced Smokescreen’s fans to judder, but he recovered quickly. “I’m gonna get you back for that!”

Bumblebee whistled low to high, dancing out of Smokescreen’s range. When he closed in for another strike, Smokescreen correctly predicted where Bee’s fist would land and turned his arm away, then counterattacked. Smokescreen’s finger swiped across a seam in abdominal plating, and Bee’s surprised shriek blended into staticky rolling bleats of laughter. From there, their sparring rapidly devolved into a poke war. Smokescreen knocked Bumblebee over with a well placed shoulder and they were on the ground, hardly bothering with proper wrestling moves.

They rolled over and around each other, each trying to find an opening to distract the other, holds and chokes gentling to poking and swatting hands away playfully. Smokescreen’s knee scooted up just far enough and Bumblebee let out a low tone covered up by shrill static. The Camaro’s doorwings twitched ever so slightly as Smokescreen ostensibly went for another hold, hand gripping at the base of the hinge.

\---

“I haven’t seen that move before...” Fowler coughed awkwardly. Maybe he was just seeing things, but that did _not_ look like sparring. But you know, aliens, what did he know - the longer he spent around the Autobots, the more he got to know them, of course. But he also was beginning to realize how much he didn't know.

"...and then the EMTs came in with a gurney with a sheet completely over it, and I'm worried since they usually only do that if...you know, but they were desperately trying not to laugh and it was _moving_...Bill?"

"Huh?" He turned to look at June. "I'm sorry. Just making sure those two don't knock each other's headlights out."

\---

"It's alright," she said softly. She’d been watching him observe the sparring bots below. The all too human mannerisms of the Cybertronians didn’t surprise her any more but, even then, she still felt like she was missing the context for the truly non-human mannerisms. Such as when they communicated silently over internal radios, but their body language was still evident - like watching someone talk on the phone but hearing neither end of the conversation.

June did understand the playful wrestling going on below, and it seemed so painfully incongruous with the knowledge that ones so young, that reminded her so much of Jack, were soldiers. That the sparring wasn’t just youthful exuberance and exercise, that it was often practice to avoid getting killed. Deactivated? Disassembled?

She just hoped that they could all stay intact long enough to enjoy the awkward normalcies of adolescence.

\---

Smokescreen found his wide shoulders pinned by Bumblebee’s strong hands and they both paused, staring into each others’ optics, cooling fans kicked on high. Bumblebee was transfixed as Smokescreen’s mouth fell open slightly, panting hot air over his own face. His distraction was taken advantage of, Bumblebee’s wrists grabbed from underneath, pushed up, and gravity crashed his chest into Smokescreen’s. Their faces were even closer now, the distance easily breached --

A loud truck engine grumble came from Ratchet’s lab. “Can’t you two do that elsewhere?! I, unlike some _others_ , am trying to get some work done here!”

The young bots froze, Smokescreen’s hand locked behind Bumblebee’s neck in a half nelson.

“Aw, c’mon doc-bot, it’s just sparring!” protested Smokescreen, who’d let his grip on his opponent relax. Bumblebee beeped concurrence.

“Puh-leez. At this rate, you two are going to crash into something _important,_ ” Ratchet grumbled at the two. "I have enough trouble keeping my equipment together already as is!"

Smokescreen rubbed one hand on his rear cranial plating. "Look, Ratchet, Bee and I have been cooped up here for a zetacycle! C'mon, we won't be gone that long." Bee literally chimed in a few more points of support.

Ratchet shook his head over his work station, reabsorbing himself in his work. “Go find something _productive_ to amuse yourselves with.”

Bumblebee’s doors (or wings, or whatever they were) on his back drooped sadly.

“Well, what else are we gonna do?” Smokescreen threw up his hands in frustration. June recognized his frustration - Jack had occasionally been fed up while grounded, too.

Ratchet leaned into his hands, arms resting on the console. The two younger Autobots watched the medic carefully, making minor shifts in their bodies that June assumed held a conversation between the two of them.

Eventually, Ratchet's head lifted back up.

“I suppose...you could go out for a patrol,” he said, without turning around or even taking his hands off of the console. Both young bots’ optics brightened, just in time for Ratchet to face them. “A _short_ patrol, nearby the base.”

Bumblebee trilled happily.

“And no racing!”

"Yes, Ratchet." Smokescreen's vocals dragged out the sentence as long as possible in resignation, as the upper half of his frame crumpled down.

"Oh, alright you two. Run off now." The medic sighed in resignation. "But if the both of you aren't back before Optimus, I am _not_ making any excuses for you!"

The two young Autobots cheered.

“I’ll give you a head start," Smokescreen said. Bumblebee looked at him and chirped in surprise. Smokescreen waved his hands in front of his face. "No, no, no. It's not that I think you need it - I just want a _challenge_." June was puzzled by the shift in Smokescreen's voice on that last part; there was an undertone in it that she just couldn't place.

A few moments passed before Ratchet wheeled around at the two.

"Well, scram you scrap-infused sparklings!" Ratchet threw his arms towards them to shoo them out the door.

"...and get off my lawn, y'dang kids!" William imitated Ratchet's exasperation and mixed it with a human stereotype. June laughed softly - it was terribly appropriate.

The two immediately transformed and peeled out of the base.

**Author's Note:**

> Tune in next chapter for smut! :D


End file.
